Murder on the Hogwarts Express
by PenguinofProse
Summary: In which mysterious events on the Hogwarts Express and Penelope Clearwater's sensible input cause Percy Weasley to re-evaluate what his priority should be as Head Boy.


Story Title/Link: Murder on the Hogwarts Express

School and Theme: Hogwarts: Department of Magical Transportation

Main Prompt: Percy Weasley

Additional Prompts: Excitement, Explosion

Year: four

Wordcount: 1624

Percy Weasley wasn't excited. Obviously. He was the Head Boy of Hogwarts - cool, calm and collected, mature and responsible, quite above juvenile feelings such as excitement.

But it was only reasonable, he thought, that even a Head Boy might feel a moderate dose of _anticipation_ upon catching the Hogwarts Express. Anticipation was an entirely justifiable emotion given the circumstances. This was his first term as Head Boy–had he mentioned he was Head Boy? It was, he thought, entirely logical and not at all childish to anticipate all of the good things that were before him as he boarded the train. Good things like responsibilities, the respect of adults, and Penelope looking impressed by him.

His younger brothers and their friends, on the other hand, were most definitely _excited_.

"Your bloody cat, Hermione -"

"Honestly, Ronald. He's done nothing to you -"

"Yeah, Ronniekins, all he did was eat your sandwiches, he's done _nothing_ to you -"

"You don't even like corned beef -"

"That's not the point, Harry -"

Percy wasn't altogether sure what the point could possibly be. He'd long since lost track of the petty arguments of his more exuberant relatives. And he'd thought that Hermione might turn out to be a decent addition to their circle, but then she went and got attached to Ron and Harry, and it had all gone downhill from there, really.

With a much practised long-suffering sigh, he took himself off in the opposite direction to the Weasley clan and their assorted hangers-on. They would find a compartment, no doubt, and pass their time with a game of exploding snap and eating far more sugar than was good for them. Hermione would sit there, of course, pretending to want to read a book but actually being foolishly _excited _by all that foolishness.

Percy had a much more worthy destination in mind. He needed to go to the compartment where he would shortly find himself chairing the Prefects' meeting. Duty called. And of course, he would always be proud to do his duty, but the fact that Penelope would be there too–that certainly sweetened the deal.

…...

The meeting went without a hitch, everyone listening in compliant silence to their instructions and barely fidgeting as he read out the patrol schedules.

It didn't escape his notice that a couple of the Slytherin Prefects had their eyes closed, but he decided not to dwell on that. He didn't dwell, either, on the mutters he'd heard from the fifth year Ravenclaw as she was leaving – something about _the most boring three hours of her life_. It was harder to ignore the Hufflepuff from his own year who was mumbling resentfully that they didn't _need_ to take three hours giving instructions. He was feeling rather proud, actually, that he'd been so thorough without spilling over into a fourth.

Within moments, the compartment was empty, save for himself and Penelope.

"I'm so proud of you," she told him, with that sweet little smile he liked so much. "Your first Prefects' meeting."

"I think it went OK," he decided, shovelling aside his unease at those whispers about the amount of time they'd spent on detailing his expectations to his peers.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked, eyes flickering nervously to his. "I mean, we're the only ones in this compartment..."

"We are," he agreed, blushing that treacherous Weasley blush at the thought of what she might be insinuating, wondering how to go about taking her up on that offer in a mature, responsible and _gentlemanly_ way, wondering whether -

A sharp impact shook the train, a thunderous noise echoing in the air. He fell, hard, against the side of the compartment, glasses knocking against the window as he went.

"Penelope? Penelope, are you OK?" he managed to ask, as soon as he regained some semblance of balance.

"I'm OK." She sat in a crumpled heap on the floor. "What do you think that was? It sounded like an explosion."

"I think it was an explosion," he agreed, nodding wisely. "It sounded like an explosion. You stay here–as Head Boy I believe it is my duty to-"

"Oh, do shut up about your duty, Perce." She crawled over and squeezed his hand. "Come on. I'm coming with you."

"No. You mustn't, it might be dangerous. This is exactly the kind of crisis where, as Head Boy, I need to step up and serve my school. I suppose I shall have to cordon off the area somehow and then question the suspects-"

"You've been reading those Muggle murder mysteries with your dad again, haven't you?" she teased affectionately.

Percy was rather glad that the darkness hid his glowing cheeks. He didn't much like people to notice that he was into frivolous things like reading Muggle novels with his father, and he was rather glad that Penelope was about the only person that knew that side to him. He hadn't quite decided yet, though, how he felt about her _teasing_ him for it. If he didn't know better, he could almost start to think she found it sweet, or endearing or something, rather than a petty waste of his time.

He shook his head and got back on with being calm and collected in the face of this particular crisis.

"There's no time to argue about this," he insisted manfully as he clambered back to his feet. "I shall go out there. Don't follow me."

"Definitely following you," she responded, standing up at his side. "Come on."

He opened the door and crept down the corridor. Whatever had exploded, it must have been something quite important, because the lights seemed to have gone out, and there was an overwhelming sense of cold starting to seep through the walls from the bleak countryside beyond the windows.

"Lumos," he muttered, casting a light with his wand. There wasn't much he could think of doing to fix the heating, though, so he did the next best thing.

He reached his free hand out to hold Penelope's, entangled his fingers with her own.

"You OK?" she whispered.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I thought your hand might be getting cold."

"You're so thoughtful. Thank you, Perce."

He shook his head a little, trying to ignore the way that her childish shortening of his name did silly things to his insides. Boldly, he continued down the corridor, looking for any sign of the explosion. Around them, students were cowering in their compartments, shivering in the darkness. Did he ought to go in and help them? Cast _Lumos _and see about conjuring some blankets?

No. It was his duty to find out what had happened. It could be that dangerous criminal, Sirius Black, for all they knew, and he ought to go and see what was to be done.

They opened the door into the next carriage and heard footsteps.

"What's that?" Penelope asked, fingers still clutching his.

"It sounds like someone running towards us," he whispered. "Get behind me."

She didn't, of course. She just held ever tighter to his hand. And before he had the chance to repeat his plea for her safety, a figure was emerging from the shadows.

"Who's there?" he asked, voice sharp with fear.

No, not fear. He wasn't afraid. Obviously. Voice sharp with _alertness_.

"Remus Lupin," the figure announced himself, "your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. And you are?"

"I'm the Head Boy," he declared, slightly hurt that the stranger had not already figured this out, "Percy Weasley, and this is Penelope Clearwater."

"A Weasley. Jolly good, from what I hear a Weasley is always handy in a crisis. Can you go and cast _L__umos_ in the younger students' compartments?"

"What – but – Professor. I'm the Head Boy. Shouldn't I come with you to – to arrest the criminals or something?"

"My dear boy," it sounded less like an endearment and more like a thinly veiled criticism, he thought, "there are no criminals to arrest. A couple of overexcited Dementors is all, and they've been sent on their way. As _Head Boy,_ your duty right now is to the comfort and spirits of the younger students."

He stood for a moment, blinking stupidly. Comfort? Spirits? _Younger students_? He was supposed to be working with the adults, now, damn it. That was what being the Head Boy meant, wasn't it? That he was a grown-up, a young man apart from his fellow pupils?

"Come on, Perce." Penelope started to tug him back towards the door they had just passed through. "The Professor's right. Just think how much it will mean to the first years, to see the Head Boy calm and in control at a time like this? Let's go show them the light."

"Show them the light?"

"Isn't that the point of being the Head Boy?" she asked him, sounding a little puzzled. "Isn't that why you wanted the badge?"

Well, then. He wouldn't want to disappoint Penelope. After all, he did like it when she looked impressed.

"Absolutely," he agreed. "Quite right. Let's go comfort the younger students."

He couldn't quite tell if she looked impressed. It was still rather dark, and there was a disconcerting amount of mist filling the corridor now. But as she reached up to press her lips to his, he couldn't help but think that she _felt_ pretty impressed.

There were pupils to comfort, of course, and a light to shine. But all the same, Percy took a moment to enjoy the feel of Penelope's hands in his hair, to hear his heart racing in his ears as she began to deepen the kiss.

But he wasn't _excited_, of course. Oh no, not at all. Percy Weasley was far too cool, calm and collected for that.

**a/n Thanks for reading!**


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